


The Daughters of Laurel: Book One (The Sorcerer's Stone)

by Riversnake



Series: The Daughters of Laurel [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riversnake/pseuds/Riversnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of three young witches, whose lives have hardly started out fairly, and how they find themselves suddenly in the thrall of adventure. This is the story of who they were and how they took their place at Hogwarts and in the wizarding world.</p><p>"It is said that a laurel wand cannot perform a dishonourable act, although in the quest for glory (a not uncommon goal for those best suited to these wands), laurel wands have been known to perform powerful and sometimes lethal magic." (from the Harry Potter Wiki Page)</p><p>An epic multi-chapter fic set to span ALL SEVEN BOOKS! </p><p>Developed and planned by myself and my two best friends, chapters (unless otherwise noted) written by myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Three Witches

**Author's Note:**

> The Prologue. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Is everything alright, Albus?”

Professor McGonagall shuffled hurriedly up towards the headmaster’s desk where Dumbledore stood with Professor Snape. The old witch in the portrait, one of the past headmistresses of Hogwarts, returned to her home on one of the far walls as she entered, having come from Minerva’s chambers near Gryffindor tower only minutes before. 

McGonagall couldn’t imagine what could be wrong at this time of night in the summer months. The leaves had not yet even begun to shift in color, and the warmth of August was still very present in the air. The students had not yet returned, and the heads of each house had just begun to arrive back on the grounds from their brief holiday. It was a relatively peaceful and quiet time in the castle. No, she couldn’t imagine what could be wrong, but she imagined something must be, given the hour of the night and the urgency with which she had been summoned. 

But it didn’t take her long to figure out why.

“Oh my…” 

As she walked in, Dumbledore had turned, revealing the small bundle he was holding in his arms.  Snape turned with him, looking from McGonagall to the small child wrapped in a crimson blanket, his brows furrowed and his face contorted in a sour sort of scowl. 

She took a few steps closer.

“What happened?”

“It appears,” Dumbledore began, his voice soft and knowing, “That someone has abandoned this poor child at the gates of our school. She was found by Peeves this evening as he was roaming the grounds.”

McGonagall’s lips parted in shock as she walked up to get a better look at the bundle.

The child was sleeping soundly in Dumbledore’s arms, a few locks of dark hair resting across the pale cheek. After a moment, McGonagall tucked away the wand she had been using to light her way through the dark halls beneath her night robes, and gently reached her arms out to take the child.

There was some unnamable enchantment about the infant, who McGonagall quickly realized could not have been more than a few weeks old. She marveled at the small face worriedly before looking back at her colleagues. Dumbledore looked dreamy and thoughtful as he kept his eyes on the baby, and Snape’s face was still stiff and contorted.

It had only been very recently that Severus Snape had been made Potions Master at Hogwarts, and though McGonagall trusted Dumbledore with all her being, she hadn’t yet figured out just what he saw in this man. He was brilliant, sure, but in moments like this to seem so disgusted and unpleasant… well, she was patient and supposed he would grow into his place here in time.

“Do we know who left her?” 

“I’m afraid not,” Dumbledore responded sadly, “When Peeves found her, all that lay with her was this card. It was tucked into her blanket.”

He reached behind him to pick up a small white card lying on his desk, still creased from how it had been folded. Glancing at it briefly over his spectacles, he handed it over to McGonagall, as she nodded her head towards Snape to take the child.

“Severus.”

His face never changing, Snape took the child somewhat awkwardly into his arms. The girl continued to sleep as Minerva took her own glasses from where they hung on her robe and read the card. 

 

_Lila._

 

She flipped the note over in her hand, looking for something more. “Surely, this can’t be all they left for her?” McGonagall asked, appalled.

“Indeed it is,” Dumbledore answered solemnly. 

McGonagall shook her head and looked again at the name written so irreverently on the card. “Not even a surname,” she murmured to herself. 

“And,” Dumbledore pressed on, “There is another complication.”

He turned around and wordlessly held his arms out to Snape, who handed him back the child named Lila. Instead of cradling her, he shifted her so that she was resting her head on his shoulder. She began to stir a little as he patted her back.

“There, there,” he said dreamily. 

Gently, Dumbledore pulled down the back of the blanket enough so that the baby’s neck could be seen. With the cloth partially removed, the girl’s soft dark hair could be seen in full view, a little longer than most children her age would have. It was visibly soft and the color a rich, dark brown, with surprising flecks of red and gold in it. 

And below the hairline, as if branded into her skin, was a mark. A birthmark that indicated that she was no ordinary child. Lila was a siren. 

McGonagall gasped a little when she saw it, and brought her fingers up to lightly trace the raised skin.

“She’s a siren?” she asked, incredulously.

“ _Part_ siren,” Dumbledore corrected, “You see the coloring of the mark? Had she been born of two sirens, the mark would be black. Here, it is white, it blends almost seamlessly into her skin.”

McGonagall looked between Dumbledore and Snape, who continued to watch the scene with an unchanging face. 

“What can we do?” she asked finally.

There was a brief pause in which the child began to cry, wriggling her small arms as if reaching for something the best she knew how. Dumbledore bounced her a bit and turned back to Snape, whose face seemed to smooth out a bit, taking the child back and holding her in a similar position, softly rubbing her back. In a few moments, Lila grew calm again, drifting in and out of sleep. Minerva raised her eyebrows, realizing that his quiet and even manner had a pleasant effect on the baby. 

“Well,” Dumbledore began as she looked back to him for an answer, “That is the problem. You see, she is part siren, and part witch. You can sense the magic in her blood.” He serenely placed his hands behind his back and began to cross to the window, looking out onto the quiet night as he continued. “I fear it is too dangerous to leave her in an orphanage. A girl such as she would not only be at risk herself, but a risk to others if she is not raised properly. And with the unrest that has been so rampant in our world as of late…” he added, tilting his head back to her slightly, “I do not think it safe to leave her with even a magical family. She has no one.”

McGonagall looked back again at the little girl wrapped in the dark, red cloth, left with nothing but that and a name. She knew too well what Dumbledore meant; a siren was a rare person in this world, a dying race. The fact that a child who had even _some_ siren blood in her existed was astonishing. It would not be wise to leave her with someone who didn’t understand, who couldn’t teach her. And at this time, where Voldemort was so at large and people were being forced into hiding, there were few who could be trusted. Leaving a helpless child, of any bearing, with just anyone would have been wrong. She looked to Dumbledore once more, who had now turned completely to face her.

“Therefore, I can only see one option left. We must keep her here.”

McGonagall let out a sigh. She had expected it, but still raised her eyebrows at the words. It was unprecedented, but indeed, the best thing they could do; and, stern as she was, she was caring just as much. She couldn’t see leaving this helpless child to fend for herself.

The room was quiet as the two men, who had clearly already discussed this before she arrived, waited for her answer.

She gave a confident nod. “I agree. That is the best thing we can do. The _only_ thing,” she added firmly.

Dumbledore gave a faint smile, having known that she would feel as he did. From where he stood with Lila, Snape continued to watch, giving a small nod in an echo of his own already established agreement.

“Then it is settled,” Dumbledore nodded, crossing back into the center of the room. He looked between his colleagues on either side of him. “I have sent owls to Professors Flitwick and Sprout on the matter, and assuming they agree,” he added, feeling confident that they would, “Young Lila will be raised as a ward of the school.”

The next day, return owls from the remaining heads of houses would make it official. And Professor McGonagall, insisting that she be given a last name, bestowed her with the name “Belledonna.”

And so Lila Belledonna was given a home. 

 

~

 

A few months later, somewhere in the country, a man stood holding a different kind of bundle in his arms. Remus Lupin stood outside of his home with a bouquet of wildflowers. It was a humble cottage, with not much surrounding it but a modest garden and a wooden gate. On one side of the land lay a huge outstretch of forest; on the other, endless ground which, if you traveled enough, would lead over a hill to the home of the Weasleys. 

He had just returned that morning from the heart of the aforementioned forest, for it had been a full moon the night before and he had spent it deep in the darkness and cover of the trees and far from the ones he loved most; those who were waiting eagerly for him just on the other side of the door. 

He changed back from his werewolf form in the early hours of the dawn, and had made a quick stop to see Arthur Weasely, to get cleaned up and put himself together. It was thanks to his good friend that he had been able to always return to his family in a way that wouldn’t frighten them.

Now here he stood, only a small scar on his cheek (from what, he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, remember), but otherwise well dressed with a warm smile working its way onto his handsome face. 

With a small breath, he turned the rusty knob and opened the door. 

“Hello?” his voice trailed in warmly as he peeked around the corner. He stepped in quietly, closing the door behind him and hiding the bouquet behind his back. 

When there was no response, he stepped further into the house, looking around the living room. When he found no one there, his brows furrowed and he made his way into the kitchen. Once there, he dropped his arm down to his side and straightened, looking around the empty space as if he expected someone to appear before him out of thin air. 

“Annie?” he called out, growing more confused by the minute. He opened his mouth to call her name again, but instead he was startled by a pair of hands grabbing at his sides.

“Ha!” the woman cried as she snuck up on her husband, bursting into laughter.

Remus jumped at the surprise, then turned around slowly and rolled his eyes at the woman beaming up at him with bright green eyes. “Gotcha,” she remarked proudly, weaving her arms up around his neck and kissing his lips. 

He smirked down at her, shaking his head and returning the embrace.

“How did you know…”

“I saw you coming, you silly man. Oh, for me?” she exclaimed in mock surprise, pulling away and retrieving the flowers from his hand.

“Ah, of course,” he remarked, “You know that _gift_ of yours is no fun for me.”

She shook her head, laughing. “You love me,” she reminded him, kissing him on the cheek. 

His smile grew soft and reverent. “That I do.”

She turned and, pulling her wand from robe, transformed a glass of water sitting on the counter into a vase, placing the flowers inside, and with another graceful wave, arranging them beautifully.

“So, how are you? Was it bad last night? I tried to keep an eye on you but our daughter has a knack for stealing my foc- Oh, sweetheart, your face-“ she said as she turned back to him, seeing the red line across his cheek. She walked up to him, gently turning his face with her hands to assess the damage.

“Don’t fuss, it’s nothing,” he said passively, pulling her hands down and holding them both in his. “We both know I’ve looked much worse,” he reminded her, raising an eyebrow. 

Annie let out a sigh; she knew he was right. But this was the man she loved; she couldn’t help but worry.

“Now,” he said, squeezing her hands and crossing back towards the living room, “Speaking of our daughter, where is the little trouble-maker? Was she crawling out of her crib all-“

But before he could finish, he answered his own question, as a small girl in a lavender onesie came crawling around the corner from her nursery. He laughed as he saw her move happily towards him, her black hair rustled and her expression determined.

He knelt down and waited patiently for her, as Annie stood behind him and shook her head in amusement.

“Yes she was,” she said, answering his unfinished question.

But after a moment, the baby girl stopped in her tracks, her little face showing a change in thought.

“Oh, Remus,” Annie said excitedly, kneeling down next to him, “I think she’s going to walk!” Of course, she didn’t _think_ this, she _knew_. But she was ecstatic nonetheless.

And sure enough, the child fumbled awkwardly as she stood, and with unpracticed but driven feet, made her way to her father’s arms, her parents cheering her on the whole way. 

When she finally reached him, Remus beamed with pride and scooped her up into his arms, kissing her on the cheek as Annie clapped her hands beside him.

“That’s my girl,” he said to the smiling face of his daughter. 

Annie leaned in and kissed little Sorrel’s cheek, flushed from the effort of taking her first steps, then looked at Remus, placing a hand on his back.

“Happy Anniversary, my love,” she said softly, kissing his cheek.

“Happy Anniversary, darling.”

The happiness the three of them shared in that moment was so deep, so tangible, that they thought it would last forever.

They never would have dreamed that this anniversary would be their last.

 

~

 

 

It was a year later, in November of 1981, that in a little suburb near London, one woman’s life would be shaken forever.

“Please, please- you’ve got the wrong man, he would never do such a thing, please!” 

Bernadette was near hysterics as the guards who had showed up so maliciously on her doorstep took her husband away for what they claimed to be unthinkable crimes. She grabbed at their immovable arms as the man they dragged away tried to fight them off of him, his innocence and the pained voice of his wife fueling his resolve to break free. 

The guards hadn’t spoken since their arrival, except to say that they were taking her husband away and announcing what they insisted he was guilty of. It was as if they couldn’t hear her protests as she tried to get them to listen to the truth. But they could hear her just fine; they simply didn’t care.

Finally, the head guard who had been standing by the door, a man twice the size of his two companions, drew his wand and pointed it threateningly at the struggling man’s head. 

“That’s enough!” he ordered, and the man grew still. 

“Now,” he continued, “If you refuse to come quietly, we will have to resort to more… violent methods of removal. Things which, I’m sure, you would not want to subject your poor wife to seeing.”

The man, his eyes both desperately angry and hopelessly sad, tried to steady his breath. He couldn’t bear to see his wife’s face at those words, so he kept his head down. He knew that he had little more choice in the matter. He would have to let them take him.

After a moment, when the large guard felt sure the man would cooperate, he withdrew his wand and nodded to his men. 

And with that, they began to move him.

“No, wait, _please!_ ” Bernadette continued to cry out, her voice almost childlike in it’s neediness.

The man halted in the doorway as the guards continued to drag. He knew he would only have a few moments to say goodbye before they ripped him fully from his home.

“It’s alright, love. I’ll come back to you, I swear it,” he said firmly, the fire in his eyes passionate and sure, for her sake if for nothing else. “Once I have a trial, you’ll see, they’ll let me go. I won’t let you down. Either of you,” he added, glancing down at her swollen belly.

“Let’s go!” The head guard called impatiently.

The tug on her husband’s arms became fiercer, and before she could lose her chance, she took his face harshly in her hands and kissed him desperately on the lips. “I love you,” she whispered intensely as he was finally pulled away.

And just before they apparated away in front of her, he called the sentiment back to her, his voice full of promise and a speedy return.

Distraught, Bernadette fell to her knees as soon as he disappeared, sobbing uncontrollably, wrapping her arms around her stomach and holding her unborn child as if her very life depended on it.

She hadn’t seen, but when her husband had spoken of a trial, a vicious smirk had crossed the head guard’s face.

For he knew what she didn’t: that there would be no such trial.

 

 

 

 


	2. The Beginning

Sorrel Lupin was never late.

Today, however, she would be. Professor Snape had kept her late after Potions, making her explain five times why she had failed to correctly brew the Swelling Solution they had been working on in class and where she had gone wrong. She was not a particular favorite of his, which wouldn’t have bothered her if he didn’t insist on reminding her of it in a way that would make her late for a class that she actually cared about.

She was running up the stairs from the dungeons, ever-so-calmly murmuring about “stupid class” and “insufferable human” under her breath, when she turned a sharp corner, colliding with one body only to be swiftly caught by another. 

“Sorry, sorry…” she started, pulling herself upright and straightening her robes. But when she looked up and saw who it was she had run into, she let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Well, don’t sound so happy to see us,” Fred Weasley mused.

“Yeah, we did just save your life, you know,” George added, pretending to be wounded by her lack of enthusiasm.

Even frazzled as she was, they never failed to make her laugh. It had been that way throughout her childhood. Fred and George were two of her closest friends, and though she was logical and headstrong, as her Ravenclaw sorting had proven her, they could always bring out her silly side. 

She gave a short laugh and rolled her eyes.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” she said dramatically, smirking at the two boys. They exchanged a proud look with each other and smiled back down at her. “But I’m _really_ late for class.”

“You? Late?” George gasped, his eyes wide.

“There’s something I’ve never heard before,” Fred chimed in dryly.

“Well, don’t let us keep you then,” George pressed on, fixing her robes in mock panic and rustling her hair, “Don’t want to be tossed out your second year here.”

Sorrel shook her head, suppressing a laugh, and gave him a soft shove. Fred then grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards him, bending down to meet her at eye level and telling her seriously, “Fly fast, young Ravenclaw. Don’t let us down.” And he flicked her nose playfully, sending her on her way.

“You guys are freaks!” she called out teasingly over her shoulder as she resumed her run.

“We’re your favorite!” George called back. 

“Yeah, don’t run into anyone else, they won’t be as friendly!” Fred added. As she disappeared around another corner, smiling to herself, the brothers exchanged a look of victorious amusement and continued on their way. 

Only a few moments later, Sorrel appeared, panting and flushed, in the doorway to the Transfiguration classroom. Having heard her speedy footsteps, her classmates turned their heads to see what all the fuss was, as McGonagall had turned from the board she had been writing on, her eyes wide over her glasses.

Sorrel, suddenly realizing all eyes were on her, felt her cheeks grow a little warm at the attention.

“I- I’m sorry I’m late, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, he-“

“Never mind, Sorrel, never mind- just hurry up and take a seat,” McGonagall said, calmly waving off her stammering and proceeding with her lesson. She wasn’t really concerned with Sorrel being late; she was an excellent student and it wasn’t something that occurred on a regular basis.

Sorrel nodded gratefully, eyes turning back forward and class resuming as usual. Looking around, she could find only one empty seat. Lila Belledonna, a Slytherin, was sitting at the center desk three rows back, and the chair beside her was vacant.

At that time, Sorrel had no real feeling one way or the other about Lila. They had shared only a couple of classes first year, and she was pleasant enough, smart, but they had never really spoken. She knew little about her, and guessed that this lack of knowledge was mutual. Of course, Lila did had a bit of a legacy, which was pretty well known amongst the student body as a whole. She had grown up in this castle, a half-siren orphaned and left at the gates as an infant, then permitted to start school a year early at the age of ten. But that was common knowledge, and besides that, Lila was not one to draw excess attention to herself (a trait they had in common). This term, they shared a much more similar class schedule, but it was still only the beginning of the year.

Walking quickly to the empty chair, Sorrel sat quietly down.

The two girls exchanged a brief friendly glance, each acknowledging the presence of the other to be polite, and Sorrel took her books out of her bag as they both turned their attention forward. 

“Now, as I was saying…” McGonagall pressed on, removing her spectacles and continuing with her lesson.

Today, they were learning to transform clocks into canaries. It was more review than anything else, combining the spells they had focused on in their first year with new skills and spells they were to learn this year. Unfortunately, many of their classmates had not retained the reviewed material as well as the Professor would have hoped. 

“So, who can tell me the general distinction between wand movement for transfiguration versus untransfiguration?”

Her question was met with absolute silence from the room.

As the silence became more painful, Lila furrowed her brows and Sorrel rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling. Both young witches knew the answer, but neither was eager to be, yet again, the one with the answer. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats, waiting for someone else to speak up and respond to what they both felt was a reasonably easy question.

“Anyone?” McGonagall asked, surprised and disappointed at the lack of response.

Lila’s leg started to bounce under the table and Sorrel let out a sigh; this was unbearable.

“ _Seriously_?” Lila breathed to herself, dropping her head. 

Sorrel began to rock a bit in her seat, pursing her lips as the answer threatened to burst forth.

McGonagall shook her head at the group, her eyebrow raised, and both girls could feel her glance brush over them, her expectation boring into them as they squirmed.

“Well, I must say, I am very disappointed. We spent a great deal of time last term going over this.”

Lila rubbed her face with her hands. Sorrel clasped hers firmly together on the desk.

“Not _one_ of you can give me an answer?”

She glanced at them briefly again. Lila looked up at the molding in the archway as Sorrel became perfectly still. 

“Alright. Well, if _none_ of you knows…”

“ _Accent up versus accent down_!”

The two voices rang out together in a single outburst, Lila and Sorrel exchanging a look of common surprise with each other once they had spoken. The rest of the class looked at them as well, some of them taken aback by the sudden outcry, some kicking themselves for not remembering the answer. McGonagall smirked at the two girls, and gave a small nod.

“Precisely.”

The lesson continued on from there, most of the class eventually able to perform the assigned transfiguration and its reversal by the end. A few, however, such as Hufflepuff Tobias Shaw, had successfully managed to magically disfigure the clock into pieces. A gentle boy, he always did have a knack for accidently making things come undone. Beside him, his friend and fellow Hufflepuff, Camilla Miller, patted his back consolingly. When McGonagall came over to him, he looked up at her with innocent brown eyes and an embarrassed shrug. She simply looked down at him dryly, and as usual, waved her wand once over the pile of knuts and gears, putting the clock back together. 

When class was finally dismissed, Sorrel and Lila lagged behind, leaving together and laughing. 

“I still can’t believe no one knew that answer,” Sorrel remarked, shaking her head at the thought.

“I know,” Lila agreed, “I’ve known the answer to that one since I was seven years old.”

Sorrel looked at her with genuine curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

Lila, no stranger to inquiries, shrugged nonchalantly, “Shoot.”

“What was it _like_ … growing up here, I mean?”

Lila laughed, considering. “Well, clearly I spent a lot of time in the classroom.”

“Yes,” Sorrel agreed, smiling, “Clearly. I’m a bit surprised you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw, honestly.”

Lila raised her eyebrows and countered, “You all don’t have exclusive rights to intelligence, you know.”

“Fair, fair,” Sorrel conceded, “But we do have quite the monopoly on it…”

“True. But it’s too bad you’re not also known for the drive needed to make use of it.”

The two girls continued to talk and tease each other easily as they walked, finally reaching the corridor where they would separate to reach their respectable common rooms. They stopped for a moment, each pleasantly surprised by how comfortable they had become so quickly.

“Save you a seat in Charms?” Sorrel offered.

Lila nodded with a smile. “Just try not to be late, this time,” she added with a raise of her brow. And with that, she turned and headed to the stairs that would lead her down to the dungeons. 

“Shove off!” Sorrel called after her, laughing.

A few passing students glanced at her in confusion, telling someone to shove off in such a cheerful manner. Sorrel looked around for a moment, then, suppressing a giggle, she headed up to Ravenclaw tower. 

And so a friendship that seemed inevitable was formed.

 


	3. Snakes & Eagles

A few weeks later, on a Friday night, the Slytherin common room was alive with activity. Students were unwinding together after a long week of classes; some were tucked into corners, reading, while others were huddled around the fire, drinking tea and laughing with each other, and others still were playing games and creating new tricks and spells. A few first years were gathered around the common room windows, marveling at the view into the Black Lake. They were startled when a mermaid, one known as Celia, who often had a habit of sneaking up on unsuspecting students, appeared from below the window out of nowhere, wearing a frightening expression. Some of the surrounding older students laughed, quite used to her antics and amused by the effect they had on new students.

Lila was sitting on the couch by the fire, perched against one arm with her head in a book. She was already in a pair of worn pajamas and wrapped in her forest-green sweater, her mass of dark hair pulled pack into a loose bun at the base of her neck. The book she was reading had been recommended to her by Professor McGonagall, and she went in and out of the conversation being held by her fellow second years on the floor. Her good friend, Roz, with hair such a rare shade of red it was almost maroon, was sitting and leaning against the couch in front of her, recounting with the rest their earlier Charms class. During the lesson, their classmate Xavier had accidently levitated Professor Flitwick upside down. 

“Did you SEE Flitwick’s face?” Roz remembered, laughing at the thought.

“I didn’t know skin could get that red…” Amber mused from where she lay doodling in a journal nearer to the fire. 

“Well, I can’t say I blame him,” Lila said, glancing up from her book with a smirk, “It may have started as an accident, but he was up in the air just a _little_ too long there, Xavier.”

Xavier shrugged with mock innocence as his friend Milo shook his head in quiet amusement. They were an odd pair; Xavier could have passed for a fifth year, easily, with his large, burly stature, and was what one might call “larger-than-life” in personality. Milo, on the other hand, was the quiet, creative type, his long brown hair often hiding his face and his manner otherwise calm. Still, since the year before, when Milo had covered for Xavier as he fooled around with trick spells in Herbology, they had been the very best of friends.

As the group continued to laugh and chatter, Draco Malfoy, a first year, came strolling up to the group. 

“What’s that?” he said, his brows furrowed as he leaned over Amber’s shoulder to look at what she was drawing.

“None of your business,” she said, annoyed by his intrusion. She pulled the journal closer to her in defense.

“Oh, come on,” Draco pressed on, reaching down to grab it. 

“Draco,” Lila said, looking up with a roll of her eyes and giving him a reprimanding glance, “Leave her alone.”

Draco froze, his fingers gripping the leather binding, and looked up at Lila. After a brief moment, he let it go and shrugged as if it hardly mattered. Amber sighed in frustration and pulled it back, continuing to draw but with her head much closer to her work, as if to protect it. Draco crossed over to the couch, plopping down in the empty spot beside Lila’s feet. Her eyes were back in her book as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the group ignored him as he looked around in an uninterested fashion. He turned his face to Lila.

“What are you reading?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, are you going to snatch it out of my hands if I don’t tell you?” Lila replied teasingly. 

“No, of course not,” Draco said, offended.

From the floor, Amber snorted in disagreement without looking up. Draco glared at her for a moment before turning back to Lila, his eyes softening.

“Really, what is it?”

“It’s called _The Land of Myths_ , McGonagall gave it to me.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled a bit in doubt as he asked, “Is it any good?”

Lila looked up at him curiously, closing the book. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“You always look as though you smell something foul whenever you ask a question.”

Draco gaped a little, then straightened, trying to recover, “I do not!”

“Or when you feel cornered,” she added with a raised eyebrow, smirking.

Roz chuckled from the floor as she glanced over a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Draco looked between them, trying to ignore the flush rising in his cheeks. “Whatever,” he said passively, getting up and heading towards the stairwell to the dorms.

“Draco…” Lila started, amused at his childlike behavior. She got up and went after him, putting her book aside.

In truth, Lila and Draco had become friends pretty quickly when he was sorted into Slytherin. Her strange legacy had intrigued him, as did her intelligence; at first, he wanted to befriend her out of a desire to gain rank among his housemates and among the students of Hogwarts as a whole. But it didn’t take long for a genuine friendship to form, Lila being one of the only people who seemed to understand Draco, to call him out on his antics because she actually cared. 

“Draco,” she started again when she reached him, grabbing his arm gently to stop him, “You know I didn’t say it to hurt your feelings.”

And Draco did know, but he wasn’t yet used to her type of honesty. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, mumbling.

She grabbed his shoulders, making him look at her. “Hey, try smiling once in a while, alright? At least around me because I don’t like to feel like I’m the reason you’re pouting,” she teased.

Draco, in spite of himself, gave the subtlest of grins. 

“Better,” she said, giving his shoulder a pat, “Now, come over here and try to have a good time. It’s the weekend, for goodness sake.” And, throwing an arm around his shoulder, she dragged him back to the group.

 

~

 

Up in the Ravenclaw common room, the level of activity was much the same as in the dungeons. Students, exhausted from the week, lazed around the fireplace, on the couches, and some enamored first years looked out at their incomparable view of the night sky. Around a table near one of the largest windows, Sorrel sat with some of her fellow second-years, sipping a warm mug of hot chocolate. At the table included Gem and Dillon, who were enthralled by a heated game of chess; Alice, who was going over spells with Rowena; and beside Sorrel, her good friend Felix, his eyes a bit sleepy and his spiky black hair ruffled from the day. 

“What do you figure?” Felix asked dryly, nodding towards the game.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Sorrel responded thoughtfully, “It’s been going on for a while, but it looks to me like Gem might take it.”

“Probably,” Felix added with a shrug, his expression neutral. “She usually does.”

“Could you not?” Dillon spat a little frantically, looking up at them, “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Sorrel tried not to laugh as she and Felix exchanged a look. Gemini, however, was barely blinking. Though she was breathing easy, she was staring intently at the board through her transparently-rimmed glasses, her brain clicking as she mapped out possible strategies, her dirty-blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears and out of the way. 

“Okay, show me again,” Rowena said, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Alice took a deep breath and showed her the wand movement again, her eyes slightly wide from the drudge of repetition.  She softly spoke the word “ _Sidus_ ,” and a few gold stars spurted from the end of the wand and danced along in the air above the room. 

“Okay! I got it, I got it, I got it,” Rowena said excitedly, lifting her own wand. She tried to repeat the motion, but as she whispered the spell, all that came out of her wand tip was a sad puff of grey smoke. She stared at it as if it had betrayed her.

“Okay, once more,” she said, shaking it off and turning to Alice, her eyes already on her friend’s wand.

“Merlin’s beard, Rowena!” Alice exclaimed gently, dropping her head for a moment, “It’s the weekend, can’t we just relax for five minutes?”

“I need to practice!” Rowena countered, baffled by the absurd notion of resting.

Felix and Sorrel were mostly just watching their friends in silent amusement, observing their usual quirks and conversations, which never failed to tickle them. After a few moments, Felix caught sight of a strange, blonde first year, dancing serenely in the middle of the room.

“Well, that’s new,” he said plainly.

Sorrel turned her focus to where Felix was looking and her eyebrows raised a little at the unexpected sight.

“Oh,” she said, realizing quickly who it was, “Yes, that’s Luna Lovegood. She’s a first year. Her father writes for that odd paper… _The Quibbler_ , I think it’s called?”

“Right,” Felix said, still watching. “Is she mad?” 

“No,” Sorrel answered, considering, “She’s actually rather pleasant. She’s just… different.”

“Hm. Well, speaking of first years, has anyone met the ‘boy who lived’ yet?” Felix asked the group, a subtle trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Dillon and Gem were too busy to care, Rowena shook her head without removing her eyes from her wand, and Alice looked up, shaking her head with a shrug.

“Briefly,” Sorrel admitted nonchalantly, still vaguely watching Luna, whose twirls were becoming more dramatic, “He and Ron are pretty good friends.”

Alice and Gem both looked up for a moment.

“Really?” Gem asked.

“What’s he like?” Alice questioned after her, ignoring Rowena’s frustrated groan at her distraction.

Sorrel shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Well, did he seem _special_?” Felix asked, his brow arched.

Sorrel laughed, looking at her friends, “He _seemed_ like an 11-year-old boy.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Felix complained, shaking his head and flipping through a discarded magazine on the table.

A few moments later, the girl named Luna walked dreamily over to them.

“Was my dancing bothering you?” she asked, her blue eyes innocent and her manner unusually calm. The question, directed at Sorrel, did not come off as offended, but rather as honest curiosity, as if asked by a small child.

“Um, what?” Sorrel asked, looking around as if she was looking for whomever the question was actually meant for.

“Well, you seemed to be staring, but not laughing like the others. Was I bothering you?”

Felix, amused by her strange behavior, tried not to laugh, while the others were listening in as they pretended to be involved in their various activities.

“Oh, no,” Sorrel said, slightly embarrassed, “No, not at all, I was just… zoning out, that’s all. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

She kicked Felix’s foot under the table; he found this encounter rather hysterical and was having trouble hiding it. Sorrel tried to smile in a friendly manner.

Luna tilted her head slightly, her expression never changing. “Oh, alright then,” and she skipped off toward the dormitory stairs.

Once she was out of earshot, Felix burst out laughing and Sorrel let out a sigh, tucking her loose, dark curls behind her ear and taking a somewhat desperate swig from her mug.

“What was _that?,_ ” Alice asked, her voice low.

“ _That_ was Looney Lovegood,” Felix answered, pleased with himself.

Sorrel hit him lightly with the back of her hand. “Hey, be nice,” she said, chuckling in spite of herself, “I think she’s very sweet, she’s just a bit… off, is all.”

“Oh yeah, just a bit,” Felix retorted, flipping through the magazine once more.

“HA. CHECKMATE. I WIN!” Gem exclaimed, throwing her arms up victoriously. She was impeccable at keeping a sharp, calm focus during the game, but as soon as it was hers, she became almost giddy in her excitement.

“Ugh, I’m not playing anymore,” Dillon pouted, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

“I’ll play,” Sorrel said, grinning. She got up, bringing her mug with her, and waved Dillon out of the chair. “Move over, Dillon. I think I can take her.”

 


	4. Trolls & Other Monsters

Even after Dumbledore had called for an orderly removal of the students from the Great Hall, there was some chaos in getting them to their various houses. There was a particular issue with the Slytherins: if the troll was somewhere in the dungeons, they could be in trouble. 

The Ravenclaws were colliding with them as they attempted to form their organized lines and moved towards the staircase. All of the moving bodies were making the prefects’ heads spin as they attempted to take charge and lead the hyper group of kids out of the main hall. In the hustle and bustle, Sorrel and Lila ended up beside each other, pushed together by panicked classmates. 

“Hey,” Lila said in greeting, both girls still glancing around at the crowd.

“Hey.”

“Well, this is something.”

“Yeah, something alright…”

Both Lila and Sorrel were reacting with slightly less intensity than many of the others. It was frightening that somewhere in the castle such a terrifying creature had been let loose, but all the same, both felt they would be perfectly safe, if they could just get to their common rooms and stay out of its way. 

“What are you all going to do?” Sorrel asked in concern, referring to the Slytherins as a whole.

“There’s an alternate entrance; all of the dorms have one, in case of an emergency.”

“Oh…” Sorrel wondered for a moment at how this was something she had missed, before quickly remembering that Lila had, of course, grown up in this castle. She knew all of the secrets. 

They were just about to separate with their respective houses, when suddenly Lila felt Sorrel firmly and desperately grasp at her arm. She turned, and her friend was bent at the waist, her face contorted with pain.

“Ah!” 

“Sorrel? What’s wrong?” 

Students continued to move past them as they stopped in the middle of the hall. Sorrel could barely see through the pain that had just overtaken her; her head was hot and throbbing, and all she could see were flashes of light and darkness before her eyes. She couldn’t move her mouth to answer as she winced, instead shaking her head in response.

Lila looked around; the prefects were distracted enough, so she moved Sorrel quickly away from the group. “Okay, come here.” One arm wrapped around her back and the other supporting her arm, she led Sorrel down the hall and around a corner, sitting her down on the floor against the stone wall. Sorrel all but collapsed once they stopped moving.

Lila knelt down in front of her, waiting as Sorrel rubbed her face with her hands, her breathing forced as she continued to groan in pain. Lila placed her hands on her knees, wanting to offer her comfort but afraid of making whatever was happening worse than it already was. 

A few minutes later, Sorrel felt a cold air wash through the inside of her body, up from her toes all the way through her head. Her eyes shot open as the pain subsided, her breath slowing and calming as she came slowly back to reality. She looked around herself, trying to understand what had just overcome her. Finally, her confused gaze met her friend’s, who was nervously watching her.

“Are you alright?”

Sorrel shook her head clear, trying to decide. “Yeah, I… I guess. Sorry, I… I don’t know what happened. My head was _pounding_ …”

Suddenly, there was a crash and some violent thudding from a room not far down the hall. “Come on,” Lila said, snapping back into action, “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

Pulling Sorrel up to her feet, they began to run back in the direction they had come from. They climbed a flight of stairs, Lila wanting to make sure that Sorrel got back to the common room okay before working her way back to the Slytherin dorms. Besides, she figured the farther away she could get from the unsettling noises they had just heard, the better. 

They were halfway up the staircase, the halls now silent and vacant, when they each had to grab hold of either railing, the staircase throwing their bodies as it jolted in movement. When it stopped, now in a position leading them completely out of their way, Lila let out a sigh and dropped her head.

“Fan- _tastic_.” Knowing she could figure out where they were quickly enough, she turned to Sorrel, who was a few steps down. “Come on, let’s go.”

The two girls moved quickly, making their way down the hall in attempts to find a new way to their destination, Lila trying to recognize exactly where they were. 

“I know I’ve been here before… once, maybe when I was a kid… I _might_ have gotten in trouble for wandering up here,” she added quietly with a raise of her eyebrows.

“I mean, at this point, they know we’re missing,” Sorrel reminded her softly, “I think it’s safe to say we’re in trouble.”

They stopped abruptly at the sound of heavy footsteps and a cat’s vicious hiss from around the corner.

“What was that?” Sorrel asked in a whisper, already knowing the answer but hoping it wasn’t true. 

“Filch,” Lila confirmed, thinking quickly, “In here!”

She pointed to the closest door, flinging it open and rushing inside. Once both girls were safely inside the dimly lit room, Lila closed the door, pushing the latch to lock it. She leaned her back against the door, closing her eyes and gathering her breath.

“That was close,” she breathed. She leaned down and pressed her ear to the cool wood, and a few moments later, straightened with a sigh of relief. “Alright, I think he’s gone… Sorrel?”

But Sorrel had become distracted by the large mirror surrounded by an elaborate frame perched against the wall at the end of the room. She was moving towards it slowly, entranced by it in some way. When she reached the point where she could see the reflection, she stopped. She turned back, spinning in a circle and checking back in the mirror to see if she was seeing things, which only confirmed that she must be. For in the mirror, Sorrel stood with her father, but upon inspection of her surroundings, he most certainly wasn’t there. She took a step closer, confused, and even more intrigued.

The scene expanded in the glass before her: she was sitting in her living room with her father, back home in their shabby cottage- or at least, that’s how it appeared. There were merely pieces of it: the couch, the fire, the window. They were each quietly reading a book before the humble fireplace, and in the window frame behind them, in an almost blinding light, was the full moon. The sight of her father and the moon, so round and bright, threatened to send Sorrel into a panic, but she could quickly sense that the scene was calm and… happy. The Sorrel in the reflection was completely at peace. It was a simply normal evening. Her heart twisted in her chest from a secret longing. 

Lila, seeing her enchantment, walked slowly up behind her out of curiosity. She looked from Sorrel to the mirror, and then froze in her tracks. Once the shock wore off, her body became still with sad understanding.

“I know what this is,” she said quietly, eyes glued to the reflection.

“Do you see it?” Sorrel asked, her eyes just as preoccupied. “Me and my dad and… do you see it?”

“No,” Lila said. She continued to watch what she did see: herself, flanked by two taller figures, each with a hand on her shoulder. The figures, though warm and unmistakable in presence, were faceless. There were blurs of light where there faces should have been. She swallowed hard. “It’s the Mirror of Erised, Sorrel. It… it shows you your heart’s deepest desire.”

Sorrel tilted her head at the glass as understanding washed over her. Without thinking, she sat slowly down on the floor, enamored by the image and not wanting to leave. Lila’s dark eyes were filling as she stood still, a dull ache filling her. In the mirror, she saw the faceless man lean down and lift her up, balancing her on his hip, as the woman moved in to wrap her arms around them both, her head leaning up to press what would be a kiss against her cheek.

It hurt too much to look at, and she quickly wiped a stray tear from her face as it fell, shaking her head and looking at the floor. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, afford this kind of wanting to appear in her. She wanted so desperately to be stronger than that.

“We need to get back,” she said, careful to look at Sorrel and not back at the mirror. Sorrel continued to stare, mouth slightly agape, at the simple but captivating image before her.

“Come on, we have to go,” Lila said a little more firmly, grasping Sorrel’s arm and gently yanking her up. Dragging her backwards, Sorrel eventually snapped her head away and followed Lila out. They continued on in silence, barely exchanging a goodbye as they separated, each distracted by their own thoughts and fantasies brought on by the mirror. Neither asked what the other had seen, and neither seemed too keen on telling. 

Eventually, they made it back to their respective dorms, each explaining the momentary illness that had taken over Sorrel and how it had deterred them. Both also left out their impromptu visit to the mirror. They were each reprimanded slightly, but met with no great punishment, and then quietly disappeared into their beds.

That night, Sorrel dreamt of nothing but the scene in the mirror, interrupted by the painful flashes of light.

Lila, behind the safety of her bed curtains, softly cried herself to sleep. 

 


	5. After the Match

“Three cheers for Harry Potter!”

Fred and George led the hurrah as they lifted their new seeker up onto their shoulders, the rest of the Gryffindor common room erupting in outcries of victory, throwing their fists in the air. His first game, and Harry had, against all odds and the jinx that had been mysteriously placed on his broom, caught the snitch and garnered a win for his team. 

Harry smiled, so overwhelmed by the high of winning that he had forgotten all about the attack on his broomstick. He would deal with his suspicions later; for now, he would celebrate.

“I have to admit, I thought you were a goner for sure,” Fred mused as they placed Harry back onto the ground.

“Me too. Your broom had a mind of its own there, mate,” George added.

As the room dissolved into general merriment, Ron and Hermione made their way through the adoring crowd back to Harry.

“Harry, ya did it!” Ron exclaimed happily, patting his friend’s arm.

“Congratulations, Harry! But, we really need to figure out what’s going on with Professor Snape,” Hermione added, unable to stop being the voice of reason for very long, “He…”

“Well done, Harry!” a voice interrupted, “That was some game!” Sorrel put her hand in his, shaking it with a friendly grin. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, returning the smile, “I’m sorry, who are…”

“Harry, this is Sorrel Lupin,” George said, coming just behind her with Fred. 

“She’s a Ravenclaw,” Fred added, smirking with George.

“Hey, Ronald,” Sorrel said, ruffling his hair, amused by his stunned expression.

“But- how did you get her in here?”

Sorrel laughed, looking between the twins. 

“Why, we snuck her in of course,” George answered, as if that were obvious.

“Yeah, but… how?” Ron asked, his expression still slightly bewildered. 

“We’ve got our ways,” Fred said. 

“She could get in real trouble for being here…” Hermione chimed in, her eyes disapproving.

“Relax, Granger,” George said, waving away the concern, “Learn to live a little.”

“Besides,” Fred added, “Sorrel’s family.” He proceeded to wrap his arm around Sorrel, getting her in a playful headlock.

“Knock it off, ya loon!” Sorrel said with a laugh, gently punching at his stomach to get herself free. 

“Sorrel and her dad live across the hill from us. Practically grew up with us,”  
 Ron informed Harry and Hermione, as George and Fred continued to torment their friend. After they calmed a bit, Hermione spoke up, introducing herself. 

“I’m Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger,” she said, stepping in and holding her hand out to Sorrel, who shook it with a smile. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sorrel reassured her with a shrug, “These two are always getting me into trouble. I’m just used to it by now.”

“Not true at all,” Fred said innocently.

“I’m hurt you would even suggest such a thing,” George added, holding his hand dramatically to his chest. 

Sorrel rolled her eyes at them, shaking her head. Hermione smiled gratefully at her, though her paranoia about a Ravenclaw being caught in their common room was still evident as she glanced around. She couldn’t keep the worried look off her face; it was as if she thought McGonagall would appear out of nowhere and give them all detention.

“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said under his breath, nudging her with his elbow. 

“So, Harry,” Sorrel said, turning to him and handing him a glass of pumpkin juice from a nearby table, “How’s it feel to be a Quidditch celebrity already?”

“Oh, I don’t think that…” Harry started, shaking his head.

“Nonsense, Harry. You’re a first year,” Fred interrupted.

“Yeah, this will go down in history for sure,” George added. 

“Takes after his father,” Sorrel added casually. Harry, Hermione, and Ron got quiet, looking at her in surprise. 

“My… my father?”

Sorrel paused for a moment, feeling like she might have overstepped. Looking at Ron, then back at Harry, she nodded and continued. “Yes… he was a seeker, too. A really good one, at that. I’m sorry, I just assumed you knew…”

“No, no, I knew he was a seeker. I just… how do you know he was so good?” Harry asked. He was suddenly filled with an intense and genuine curiosity.

“Oh, well my dad, he… he knew your dad, when he was in school. He told me a bit about him, said he was a seeker too. Said he was practically the star of the Quidditch team while he was here.”

Harry smiled; no matter how small or insignificant the information, his hunger for knowledge about his parents was insatiable. Whenever he found a connection, a thread that led back to them, he clung to it. The fact that this girl he had just met was the daughter of someone who knew his dad somehow made him feel closer to the family he never knew.

After a moment, Harry, his eyes in a daze, said, “Thank you,” his lips breaking into a smile. He wasn’t sure if that was the appropriate reaction once he said it, but he was grateful, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say. A short pause later, the group laughed together in reaction to the strange moment. “Sure,” Sorrel said to Harry with a smile and a nod.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in an incomparable state of joy and celebration, the Gryffindors beside themselves with their victory. Harry was in an especially bright mood, for on top of the win, he had found out a little more about his family, building a list of ways in which he was taking after his father. He was slowly but surely forming the personalities of the parents he never knew, and felt that the more time he spent here, the more elaborate these portraits in his mind would become. And _nothing_ could beat that.  

 


	6. A Hogwarts Christmas

At last, the holidays were here, and Hogwarts was decked out in festive and enchanted decorations.

When it came time for Christmas dinner, Ron and Harry headed down to the Great Hall together after having spent most of the day in the library looking for more information on the mysterious Nicolas Flamel. When they arrived, they were surprised to see the absence of the usual house tables, which had been replaced with one shorter table set in the center of the room. 

They stopped short a little in the doorway at the unexpected, and slightly intimidating, sight. At the head of the table was Dumbledore, and the rest of the table was flanked with many of their other professors: McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Trelawney (the Divination professor, who, as first years, they had not yet had), and Snape. Hagrid was there too, which brightened their spirits a bit. Along with the teachers, there were a few other students who had decided to spend the holidays at Hogwarts, or who, like Harry, had little other choice. Harry didn’t recognize the two first-year Ravenclaw boys, who seemed to be magnetized to each other out of fear, or the older Hufflepuff girl who was chatting with Fred and George, but he did, unfortunately, recognize Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. He was almost certain they had stayed at Hogwarts solely to torment him. And seated (rather bravely, Harry thought) between Professor Snape and Draco, was the second year girl Hermione had pointed out to him before she left to go home: Lila Belledonna. Harry straightened somewhat at seeing her. Though he really didn’t know her at all, he felt a kinship with the mysterious girl after hearing her story. It would be nice, Harry thought, to talk to someone who might really understand…

“Ron! Harry!” Hagrid called out excitedly, bringing their entrance to the attention of the rest of the table. The surrounding faces looked up at the two boys standing in the doorway. Dumbledore raised his arms warmly.

“Ah, welcome!” he greeted, his dream-like voice ringing out over the table, “We’ve been waiting for you. Come, sit,” he added, smiling. 

Ron and Harry exchanged a nervous glance, Ron gulping slightly, and went to take the empty spaces that had been left for them. Ron hopped conveniently into the space directly next to Fred, so that Harry would be forced to sit next to McGonagall. Harry gave him a subtle sideways glance, but Ron merely smirked victoriously in response as Harry sat slowly down beside him. 

“Now,” Dumbledore said, his grin full of Christmas spirit, “Let our little feast begin!”

Before them, a beautiful spread of food appeared, full of bright colors and intoxicating smells. Ron was the first to launch his hand out and grab a drumstick, which didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the amused table. Most giggled at his eagerness, Snape’s lip curled slightly as if he had seen a rodent, and McGonagall shook her head softly. Dumbledore, however, merely snickered as Ron realized that he had become the center of attention, his eyes growing wide and his cheeks puffed full with food. 

“That’s the spirit,” Dumbledore chuckled, “Everyone, take a lesson from Mr. Weasley. Dig in!”

With that, everyone began to pass food, crackers, and treats around the table, as they all began to settle into pleasant conversations. Though their group was small, there were enough of them that separate conversations could be politely held at either end of the table. Ron and Harry, however, being stuck in the middle, were silently listening to both sides (while Ron mostly continued to stuff his face), feeling that they weren’t able to easily join in on either. 

It was mostly divided by students and professors, though Dumbledore made certain to reach out to those on the opposite end of the table at various points, asking about classes, and asking the first years about adjusting to school. At one point, he turned his attention to Lila. 

“And Miss Belledonna, our second year prodigy,” Dumbledore said with a humble sort of pride. He knew he wouldn’t offend anyone, as she was the only second year at the table. “How are you liking your classes? I hear only good things, of course.”

“Well, that’s no surprise, since she’s been sitting in on second year classes since she was 9,” McGonagall chimed in. 

Even Snape’s mouth broke into a subtle sort of grin, which looked rather strange on his tense face, and Harry almost laughed at the sight. 

Lila merely smiled gently and shook her head, and Harry marveled at her comfort here. He suddenly realized just how much this was her home; she had grown up here, and the professors felt almost parental towards her. They were always good about not letting it interfere during school, but this was her holiday, and had always been her holiday. They were allowed to let their guards down a little. It wasn’t hard to tell how much they adored her; after all, she was the first student ever to be allowed to start school a year early. Beside her, Draco seemed to straighten and bask in her praise, as if being friends with her made him more important.

“They’re spectacular, really,” she said, “I’m pretty dreadful at Divination, but Professor Trelawney has been exceptionally patient with me.”

Even though she was his age, Harry noticed how maturely she spoke. Even her voice was low and rich, making her seem older than she was. 

At the Divination comment, both Snape and McGonagall rolled their eyes, exchanging a glance of mutual distaste for the subject. It was pretty well known that Divination was not taken seriously by most, especially by the other professors.

Trelawney chuckled, waving the statement away with her fork, “Nonsense, my dear,” she said in her confident, far-off voice, “You are doing the best you can. That is all I can ask of any student. We cannot all be blessed with the gift of seeing into the beyond…”

Taking the reigns as a few students stifled giggles under their breath, Dumbledore nodded happily and turned to Harry. “And Harry, my boy,” he said, gazing intently at him over his spectacles, “How are you finding your first year?”

Harry gaped slightly, very aware that the general attention had suddenly turned to him. 

“Oh, uh… it’s great…” he said, not able to find much else to say, “Really great,” he repeated enthusiastically. He couldn’t stop his voice from cracking a bit at the end, and he looked back to his food in embarrassment. Ron laughed, unashamed, beside him, and for a moment Harry caught Lila’s eye as she pursed her lips in good-hearted amusement. He smiled meekly in return. 

Dumbledore nodded and grinned, “Excellent.”

Not wanting to leave it on that impression, he tried to recover, “Yeah, I’m… I mean, I’m not really the most _amazing_ student, I’m- I’m a good flyer, though, and I love all my subjects…” he could see Snape arch his eyebrow disbelievingly at that statement, “It’s… it’s just all new and…  well, anyways, it’s really exciting,” he tried honestly.

“Nice try, mate,” Ron whispered with a smirk. 

McGonagall grinned to herself at his genuine enthusiasm. Dumbledore tilted his head, his dream-like expression still as alive as ever on his face. 

“From what I hear, you’re a natural,” he encouraged, “I’m sure you’ll find your footing quickly,” he added with confidence, making Harry straighten a little. “But you know, if you find you’re struggling in any area,” he went on, “There are plenty of older students who I’m sure would be more than willing to help you.”

“Well,” Harry said, briefly catching Snape’s dark gaze before retreating his eyes quickly back to Dumbledore, clearing his throat, “I’m not very good with Potions…”

“Oh, well,” Lila’s voice rang in smoothly, “I don’t know that Professor Snape would agree, but I’ve actually found I have quite a knack for Potions. I could help you, if you want,” she offered, her expression friendly. 

“Nonsense,” Professor Snape said in response to her first statement “Lila is one of my best students,” he assured the table in his usual low, dry tone. 

Harry smiled and nodded his head, “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

Lila’s smile brightened as she nodded in return and turned her attention back to her meal. Draco scowled and rolled his eyes beside her; the thought of sharing his friend with Harry Potter was beyond annoying. 

“Ah,” Dumbledore said, “That is what I love to see. Students passing on wisdom to each other, helping each other find their way through the thickets of their magical education.”

The rest of the meal went on in a continuingly joyous fashion, with those who had started the evening in a nervous state finding their own sense of comfort and enjoyment. Ron and Harry eventually dissolved into their own quiet conversation, talking mostly about what they were going to look for next in the library. Harry kept looking up at Lila, however, wanting to talk to her but unable to find a good opportunity. She was mostly talking to Draco, and once in a while to the professors, with the same ease that continued to astonish him. He had been so curious about her ever since he talked to Hermoine, he thought he was going to burst. But he knew it was probably not the time or place to ask questions anyways, so he decided to stop trying and focus on what he was discussing with Ron. He would find the right moment later.

As everyone finished their desserts, people began to disperse, full and happy, from the Great Hall. Ron (after second helpings of just about everything) nudged Harry and they said goodnight to the table, as did the remaining students, including Lila, Malfoy, and his goons. 

Ron began to head in the direction of the common room, but stopped when he realized Harry was no longer beside him.

“Um, you go on,” Harry said, “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Ron shrugged and continued on, running to meet up with his brothers. Harry waited as Lila and the other Slytherins emerged from the Hall soon after. Crabbe and Goyle intentionally bumped into him as they passed, and Draco gave him his usual look of hatred, which Harry returned. But Lila grinned at him warmly, and he spoke up. “Hey, Lila. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” she nodded, stopping, “I’ll meet up with you in the common room, Draco,” she assured her friend.

Draco stalked off with a snort of disgust, at which Lila rolled her eyes. 

“Do you want to walk outside?” Lila asked simply, “I think it’s snowing.”

“Oh,” Harry asked, surprised, “Sure.”

They continued out of the front doors into the courtyard. “Ah, it _is_ snowing,” Lila remarked, her dark voice low and happy. She walked a little out ahead of Harry and spun around under the snow. He watched her, slightly confused and somewhat mesmerized. When she stopped, she laughed a little at his expression. 

“Sorry,” she said, “I really love the snow.”

Harry shook his head, “No, you’re right. It’s great,” he assured her, looking around at the white-coated landscape. Even though it was dark so early, the snow reflected a soft grey light across the grounds that made it seem like it would never really be nighttime. Lila moved over to the stone wall, hopping up and sitting with her legs pretzel-style and her hands stuffed in her sweater pockets. Harry had followed quickly behind, and hopped up on the wall as well, sitting in a similar position and facing her. 

“So, what’s up?” she asked, her mood clearly still buzzed by the snowfall.

For a moment, Harry’s eyes wandered to the large hole worn in her sweater arm. She followed his eyes and realized what he was staring at.

“Oh. Yeah, I can’t really afford the good stuff,” she said jokingly.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no,” she said shrugging, “It’s alright, really. I’m used to it. Coming from nothing and no one leaves little in the ways of pocket cash. Most of my stuff I got for free or else for a real bargain.”

It was clear from her tone that she had developed a shockingly strong acceptance of her life and whatever it was she had been through. Harry suspected it probably wasn’t as easy as she made it seem, but he understood that very well.

“Oh, I know that feeling,” he assured her. He held out his arms, looking at his new sweater from Mrs. Weasley. “This was a gift from Ron’s mom. It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever worn. Everything else I’ve got is about 4 sizes to big for me.”

Lila nodded and smiled softly in understanding, looking down at the snow again.

“Actually,” Harry said, leaning forward, “That’s sort of what I wanted to ask you about,” he continued on, letting out a nervous laugh. “If you don’t mind, that is. I mean, I don’t’ know if you know, but I’m sort of an… orphan too, and well, I’ve heard a bit about you, nothing bad, that is, I just-“

“Harry, Harry,” Lila laughed, stopping him, “Harry, I hate to break it to you, but everyone knows who you are. Even me. And as far as whatever you’ve heard about me... I mean, I’m not ‘the boy who lived,’ but the truth is most people here end up finding out about me, too.”

Harry gaped for a moment, then nodded, “Right,” he chuckled awkwardly, “Sorry. It’s just- I thought it’d be… nice to talk to someone who maybe understood what it’s like,” he pressed on. “Does that make sense?”

Lila nodded gently, “Yes, it does.”

There was a pause for a minute where they both looked back out onto the grounds. Lila closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air, her pale cheeks rosy from the chill. After a moment, she looked back at Harry, taking a small breath.

“I was left here when I was an infant,” she started, “Right over there by the front gates.” Her eyes drifted briefly over to the steps by the grand entrance. “My parents… I don’t really know anything about them. They left me there with a small card tucked in my blanket that just had a name written on it. ‘Lila.’ That’s it.” Although she was speaking simply, Harry could see her struggling ever-so-slightly with a sadness that threatened to break through her strength. “Belledonna is a name they gave me so I’d have a last name to live with, I think McGonagall came up with it. You see, I thought it was my surname, but when I spoke to Dumbledore thinking I had found my parents, he told me the truth: that they didn’t leave me with one. They didn’t leave me with anything, really.” 

The snow was falling more gently now, and Lila watched various flakes intently as they danced down towards the earth.

Reluctantly, but insatiably curious, Harry bit his lip before deciding to speak again. “But why didn’t they bring you to an orphanage? I mean, why did they keep you here?”

Lila let out a sigh, considering, “Well, Dumbledore told me that it would have been too dangerous to leave me somewhere because…” she looked at him for a moment, weighing her options on how to continue. “I don’t know if you knew this much… most people do, but… I’m a siren. Well, part siren,” she finished, watching carefully for his reaction.

“Oh,” Harry remarked, feigning surprise. Apparently, though, she wasn’t fooled.

“But you knew that already,” she said with a knowing grin. “Anyways, between that and the strange way I was just sort of… left here, Dumbledore decided it was better just to keep me here.”

“Well… what about another magical family? Couldn’t he have found someone to take you in?”

If the questions were bothering her, she didn’t let on. “Well, as you know, we were born during a very… uncertain time,” she said, not wanting to push any wrong buttons. Harry felt his stomach turn a bit, but he nodded sadly in agreement. “Dumbledore trusted few people and didn’t want to leave me in the wrong hands. Pretty remarkable, really,” she added, “I feel really luck that they took pity on me,” she finished with a half-hearted laugh.

“I don’t think they pity you,” Harry reassured her, “I’m pretty sure they’re crazy about you.”

Lila smiled gratefully at him. “Do you ever…” she started hesitantly, “Do you ever dream about your family and then just… get sad, because you know, it’s just a fantasy. Like… you can imagine all you want, but you don’t really know what it would have been like. Who they were.  You’re just… making it up in your head.”

Harry looked at her a let out a sigh of relief, “Oh yeah,” he nodded fiercely, “All the time.”

They exchanged a look acknowledging the unspoken bond that had just been formed between them. Finally, for both of them, they had found a friend who could see eye to eye with them on a level that no one else could really understand.

They sat silently, but comfortably, for a while more in the cold night air. Then Lila shivered and turned to Harry, “We should probably get inside.”

When they reached the warmth of the deserted entrance hall, they stopped and looked at each other, unsure of where to go next. But after a moment, Lila stepped forward and hugged Harry. Slightly surprised, he took a second to hug her back. When she pulled away, she smiled at him.

“It was really nice talking with you tonight, Harry,” she said genuinely.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, grinning, “You too.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, turning and heading for her common room in the dungeons.

“Merry Christmas.”

And as he walked back up the stairs towards his own dormitory, he felt a renewed surge of holiday joy, inspired by what he knew was to be a very important friendship. 

 


	7. It's All In Your Head

Sorrel sat on the floor in her living room, looking up at the plain but pretty tree strewn with dried berries, acorns, and simple white lights. She was lost in thought as she stared at the pine needles, inhaling the fresh, sweet smells the brought into the room. Absentmindedly, she picked up the wand that was lying beside her on the floor and flicked it at the tree, so that the lights seemed to dance as they sparkled in and out of life, one by one. Letting out a breath, she rested her head back against the couch and watched them. Her head clouded over again with thoughts she couldn’t help but wander into.

The truth was, ever since Halloween, her mind had become a rather haunted place. She never tried to go back to the mirror, but the image she had seen there remained burned into her memory. More than the image itself, it was everything that it brought with it: all the daydreams, the dangerous fantasies that, as much as she may want them to be real, never could be. And whenever she was alone for too long, she couldn’t keep them at bay. Tonight more than ever. 

One of the worst things it did was bring up thoughts of her mother. She wondered as to why she hadn’t see her mother in the reflection, wracking her brain trying to understand why, until she finally figured it out. Sorrel was, above all and to her core, rational, even in her dreams. Her mother was dead; she was never coming back. And so, she had trained herself her entire life to accept that, so that she would never feel the tug on her heart that desiring something so impossible would bring. 

But the thought of her father, cured of his “condition,” able to lead a normal life without complications, and Sorrel not having to be shipped over to the Weasley’s every month while she was home (she loved them, but still)… well, these were dreams that somehow, in the corner of her mind, remained plausible. Even with no cure in sight, maybe one day there would be. The mirror had brought this small, almost passive hope into light as what it really was: all that her 12-year-old heart truly wanted. 

Then, the absence of her mother from the scene had made that longing, or really, that confusion, rear its ugly head. But the truth was, she didn’t even know who her mother was. She had died, having taken so ill so quickly, before Sorrel was even two years old. What broke Sorrel’s heart more than missing her mother, was not really missing her at all.

Her eyes wandered to the photograph that sat, caked in dust, above the fireplace. It was the only photo of the three of them, Sorrel, her father, and her mother. It was taken on Sorrel’s first birthday, and although Remus loved it and refused to take it down, he couldn’t bear to actively acknowledge it, not even long enough to wave his wand and make it clean. It was far too painful. With another sigh, Sorrel waved her wand at the picture, wiping the dust away herself. She stood, her bare feet curling into the warm, tattered rug. She walked over to the photo, wondering at it for a moment before turning to the window. The moon loomed full in the sky above the forest trees. 

Out in the distance, she could hear the faint, familiar howl, her lips forming in a sad smile. 

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” she whispered. 

 

  
~

 

Sorrel fell asleep on the couch that night, still gazing at the tree. But once sleep took over, she was met with a very different kind of dream. 

It happened in flashes, mostly bright colors and light, each hitting her with different emotions, each stronger than the next. Intolerable pain, overwhelming fear, and a heart-pounding excitement, all coming in gasps. Among the scattered images that started to form, she could just make out a fiery red stone, a key that whizzed by her eyes with a screech, and black vines twisting and hissing in a way that made her skin crawl. She felt a dark liquid burning as it wormed its way down her throat. With another brilliant explosion of white light, she woke with a startled scream, her forehead aching and sweaty as she tried to catch her breath. 

Sorrel looked around the room, throwing the knit blanket off of her body. It was still dark out, and looking at the clock, she saw that it was still in the heart of the night; she had only passed out for a few hours. But the wave of pain that was still shivering in her body made her feel like she had just gone to hell and back. Pinching her eyes shut, she slowly made her way to standing. She moved into the kitchen, keeping a hand on the wall to support her as she walked. With a shaking hand, she got herself a glass of water, draining it quickly and filling the glass once more. 

Sorrel gripped the sink as she stood, trying to collect herself; she was no stranger to nightmares, but this was unlike anything she had known. It was a far more intense version of what had happened to her the night she had been to the mirror. And this time, there were real pictures, solid images; things that seemed so real, she couldn’t convince herself that they weren’t, although she couldn’t begin to fathom what they meant. 

“Just a dream, just a dream…” she murmured to herself, her voice dry despite the water. Finishing off the glass, she went back into the living room, curling up again on the couch under the safety of the blanket and the gentle glow of the tree. Her body was so exhausted from the nightmare, and she fell immediately back to sleep, this time deep, heavy, and completely black. 

 

  
~

 

The sky was still a musky grey, the light of dawn just beginning to make its way across the frosted ground. With the Weasleys being gone for the holidays to visit their son Charlie, Remus had set aside some clothing and done the best he could to clean himself up before going home. He looked into the back window of the cottage at his reflection; it certainly wasn’t the best he’d looked. There was a dark ring under his left eye and a gash that went from in front of his ear all the way down his neck, through and under his shirt to his chest. It was still early enough, though, that he thought Sorrel would be asleep, and maybe he could have a little more time to look less frightening.

The Weasleys had offered to bring her with them, knowing they wouldn’t be around for the full moon, and her father had tried to get her to stay at Hogwarts, but both suggestions were met with adamant refusal. Sorrel was determined to be home. _She’s as stubborn as her mother was_ , Remus had thought to himself. He had allowed his daughter to stay only on the condition that he leave her with a small blue button on a chord, that she was to wear around her neck her in case she was in trouble; if she squeezed it tightly in her hand, Lupin’s friend and auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt would be there in an instant. 

Slowly and quietly, he walked around and entered his home through the front door. Stepping into the living room, he could just make out Sorrel’s head at the arm of the couch; she had fallen asleep there and, from what he could see, was not yet awake.

Ever-more-careful with his steps, he went to the drawer in the small stand by the door and pulled out a small box wrapped in red paper and twine. He then walked over to the couch, and smiled softly at his little girl. Sorrel had always been such a mature child, had acted so much older than her years, that he sometimes forgot how young she really was. But here, curled up and fast asleep with her hand tucked by her chin, he suddenly saw her as his baby once more, looking as she did when she was three or four years old. He knelt down in front of the couch, gently placing the back of his hand on her cheek. Then, careful not to wake her, he lifted her hand and placed the small package beneath it. She continued to sleep soundly, barely stirring at all, and he shook his head with a grin.

He placed a kiss gently on her head and whispered “Merry Christmas, my girl,” tucking her in the blanket a bit more before heading off to his room for some much needed rest.  

 


End file.
